


I Burn For Thee

by Captain_Batman18



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Adult Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27443410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Batman18/pseuds/Captain_Batman18
Summary: Alternative direction for the episode "Amok Time;" what happens if one little thing changed, and Kirk realizes why Spock has been acting oddly, especially around him. Contains...unplanned amounts of smut.  *Warning: said smut is rather rough, not recommended if this is something for which you do not have a preference.*Disclaimer: Inspired by Brittany Diamond's take on "Amok Time" from her fic "The Commentary on TOS for KS;" link has been provided for reference/credit.  Any similarities to other fiction is not deliberate.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 18
Kudos: 136





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Commentary on TOS for K/S](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/710788) by Brittany Diamond. 



> I actually had an account on fanfiction.net a looooong time ago, but I really don't remember what it was; I had only uploaded one story with one chapter, and it frankly wasn't very good. I believe my writing has improved since then, and at the moment have doubled the number of chapters since my last fic. I also have discovered that I can apparently write smut, which I never attempted before, having preferred to read it instead. I plan on uploading somewhat regularly--ha, seen that before--and I will likely continue to lean towards adult-content; not just smut, I tend to use strong language and I have a non-fanfic going with violence in it, so that will probably make an appearance in a fic at some point. I appreciate constructive feedback, flaming will be noted and promptly ignored, but anything that would legit help improve a fic or writing style in general is greatly appreciated.  
>  ==========================

"Jim!"

Captain Kirk turns to see Doctor McCoy jogging towards him down the ship's corridor.

"What is it Bones?" Kirk's query is equal parts mildly concerned and curious, the Commanding Medical Officer might preach regular exercise, but is rarely seen actually _participating_ in such activity, clearly meaning it must be something rather urgent.

"It's Spock, have you noticed anything...strange about him?"

Kirk's expression shifts to bemusement as they continue down the now mildly crowded corridor, crew passing by on their way to and from various tasks, possibly heading off for a meal or some much needed sleep.

"No, nothing in particular, why?"

McCoy frowns slightly as he voices his concern.

"Well, it's nothing I can pinpoint without an examination, but he's becoming increasingly restive. If he wasn't a Vulcan I'd almost say 'nervous.' And for another thing, he's avoiding food. He hasn't eaten anything at all in three days."

Kirk continues to look bemused, shifting towards actual amusement.

"Well, that just sounds like Mr. Spock in one of his contemplative phases."

Their conversation is interrupted as Nurse Chapel comes around the corner, carrying a covered food tray. She tries to turn back, but is halted by McCoy, who beckons Kirk over as well.

"What's this?"

McCoy gestures to the tray as Nurse Chapel laughs nervously, he lifts the cover revealing a soup bowl as Kirk watches in polite confusion.

"Oh, Vulcan Plomeek soup. And I'll bet you made it too. You never give up hoping, do you?"

He says the last line with the clear implication she should have, and a long time ago at that, but with a sort of wry kindness. Chapel flushes a bit with embarrassment before hesitantly offering an explanation.

"Well, uhm, Mr. Spock hasn't been eating Doctor, and I just happened to notice."

She offers a nervous smile, clearly wishing she were anywhere else at the moment. McCoy returns the lid to the tray, as a still befuddled Kirk watches in polite confusion.

"It's alright. Carry on, Ms. Chapel."

McCoy offers her a small smile though he clearly still holds the opinion this is a bad idea, and Chapel hastily continues on her way to Mr. Spock's quarters; which happen to be a short distance down the corridor. She pauses to press the buzzer before heading inside, safe now from the scrutiny of her Superior Officers.

"Bones, I'm a busy man..."

Kirk says as he turns to leave, but McCoy moves to cut him off.

"Jim, when I suggested to Spock that it was time for his routine check up, your logical, unemotional First Officer turned to me and said 'You will cease to pry into my personal matters, Doctor, or I shall certainly break your neck.'"

Kirk allows a surprised expression with mild concern to wash across his face as he stares at McCoy, whose own face is completely serious.

"Spock said that?"

Incredulous curiosity more than anything tinges the words, but before Kirk can ask McCoy for more information, Spock's voice, raised in an uncharacteristic shout, comes from his quarters.

"What is this?!"

The door to his quarters hisses open, and Nurse Chapel bolts from the entrance, narrowly avoiding the tray of soup as Spock hurls it into the corridor after her. It smacks against the wall, leaving a vivid purplish-red splatter, the bowl sliding down the wall to clatter to the floor. Spock, his dark eyes blazing, bellows after her retreating form.

"If I want anything from you, _I'll ask for it!_ "

His expression shifts when he sees both his Captain and the Chief Medical Officer standing just outside his door, sporting similarly shocked expressions, though Kirk's holds a degree of concern as well. Spock stiffens, before addressing Kirk in a stern tone.

"Captain, I should like to request a leave of absence on my home planet. On our present course, you can divert to Vulcan with a loss of but 2.8 light days."

Kirk steps forward, as the initial shock of Spock's outburst fades to concern.

"Spock...what the devil is this all about?"

Spock's face remains closed, though his eyes still burn, his anger restrained, now more like a smoldering fire than a bolt of lightning.

"I have made my request, Captain. All I require from you is that you answer it, yes or no?!"

Harsh, furious, and even rude, Spock's flat-out demand prompts Kirk to try to follow Spock as he storms back into his quarters, but the door hisses shut in his face, which has gone from deeply concerned to visibly worried; McCoy unable to offer anything more than a baffled and sympathetic shake of his head.

"I don't know what to tell you Jim, but he's definitely not his usual 'walking-computer' self."

McCoy's face darkens with concern as he realizes Kirk is not receptive to humor at the moment, and he moves forward to put a reassuring hand on his very worried friend's shoulder.

"I'll look up Vulcans in the Med library, see what might be causing him to be acting like this, I'll let you know if I find anything, alright?"

Kirk nods, his reply soft, as he turns to look at the closed door.

"Thanks Bones."

His friend hesitates, and opens his mouth as though to say something, but chooses instead to clap Kirk bracingly on the shoulder before heading off and turning down a side corridor.

"'All I require from you is that you answer it...'"

Kirk mutters to himself as he muses over his First Officer's irrational behavior, his concern compounded when he is forced to use his Captain's clearance to override the privacy lock placed upon the door. Squaring his shoulders, and feeling oddly like going into battle, he strides forward, and though it is likely his imagination, the click of the latch sounds almost foreboding...ominous. Shaking his head slightly to re-center his thoughts, he strides boldly into Spock's quarters, not as a friend, but as his Commanding Officer.

"Mr. Spock!"

He calls out, bold, commanding, a call which demands an answer. Yet Spock does not, he is seated at his desk, writing something, most likely a report. As Kirk strides into the room, he stops writing, but does not look up. Kirk halts and then repeats himself, though not as loud, the tone is the same, and just as insistent.

"Mr. Spock."

Spock finally gets up from his desk, stylus still in hand, which he nonchalantly moves behind his back. Still clearly agitated, though his anger seems to have lessened somewhat, he makes a point of not looking directly at the Captain. Tension creeps into the silence between them, and Kirk is the first to break it, striding across the room to stand in front of his reticent First Officer.

"Alright, Spock, let's have it."

No friendliness, pure authority, a Superior demanding an explanation from their subordinate. Spock's reply as he moves across from him, however, is not what he expected.

"It is undignified for a woman to play servant to a man who is not hers. I do not wish-"

Kirk cuts him off midsentence.

"I'm more interested in your request for shore leave. In all the years I've known-"

Spock _interrupts him_.

"You have my request, Captain, will you grant it or not?"

Kirk is taken aback, Spock has never, not once, spoken like this...his mind reeling with the complete _wrongness_ of it. He addresses Spock again, more sternly than before, insubordination something he will not tolerate, regardless of...well, anything, and especially not in a First Officer.

"...In all the years I've known you, you've never asked for a leave of any sort. In fact, you've refused them, why now?"

Spock counters with simple logic.

"Captain, surely I have enough leave time accumulated."

Kirk acknowledges the point, yet tries to force an answer as he moves to stand right in front of Spock.

"Agreed, but that isn't the question, is it?"

Spock shifts his feet before moving back towards his desk, resting his hand upon the back of the chair. He glances at Kirk, rigid, unyielding, and Spock's sholders sag in defeat. He sits down heavily in his chair, agitation giving way to something more akin to a sulk, which is even stranger than his earlier rage, and prompts Kirk to slightly soften his tone.

"If there's a problem of some sort, illness in the family..."

Spock's reply is curt, his gaze directed at the floor.

"No. Nothing of that nature, Captain."

Kirk reprises his authoritative tone, though concern is deeply etched upon his face; Spock continues to avoid looking up.

"Then since we're headed for Altair VI, and since the shore facilities there are excellent..."

He states as he moves towards the door, prompting another outburst from Spock, who quickly rises from his chair.

"No! I must-"

He stops, aware of his emotional display, now looking directly into his Captain, his _friend's_ concerned eyes, tense silence once again falling between them. Spock visibly gathers his composure before speaking, clearly still embarrassed by his reaction.

"I wish to take my leave on Vulcan."

Kirk looks at him for a long moment, his authoritative air gone, replaced completely by the friend who _knows_ this Vulcan, and sees how this request, this _near plea_ is costing him. Kirk again crosses the room to stand in front of Spock, concern radiating from him in a palpable wave; unnoticed behind his back, Spock tightens his grip on the stylus still clenched in his now shaking fist.

"Spock...I'm asking you: what's wrong?"

Kirk's voice is soft, not quite gentle, and he clearly expects an answer, if not a completely satisfactory one, at least one that makes some amount of sense. Spock, while not fully disclosing anything, moderately complies, his voice low.

"I need...rest. I'm asking you to accept that answer."

Kirk looks down as he nods, quietly accepting his friend's answer. He moves slightly to the desk, using Spock's computer to contact the bridge to increase their speed, noticing as he does so that Spock's hands are clenched behind his back, clearly holding...something; he chooses not to comment on it as he finishes relaying his orders to the helmsman. Satisfied that the ship is now set to reach their destination ahead of schedule, Kirk throws a look at Spock, who is staring straight ahead at nothing, he might well be a statue. He heads for the door and is brought up short as Spock's voice cuts through the air.

"Thank you, Captain." Kirk turns; Spock is still immobile, hands clasped firmly behind him.

"I suppose most of us overlook the fact that even Vulcans aren't indestructible."

He smiles reassuringly as he leaves, thinking the matter to be more or less resolved, he heads to the bridge. Spock arches an eyebrow as he muses over this sentiment; the hand gripping the stylus now shaking uncontrollably, he brings the other around in an attempt to stop it.

"No..."

He pauses as he thinks of how close Jim--the Captain--had been when he contacted the bridge.

"...we are not."

He confesses his weakness to the empty room, voice heavy with despair.


	2. Chapter 2

Some hours later finds both Captain and Commander on the bridge, their earlier exchange placed aside in favor of duty, though not forgotten, as evidenced when Lieutenant Uhura patches through a call from Starfleet Command.

"The Captain, USS Enterprise, Starfleet Sector 9. Inauguration ceremonies at Altair VI have been advanced seven solar days."

Kirk glances over at Spock, knowing what this change means; the Admiral continues his message.

"You're ordered to alter your flight plan as filed to accommodate."

Kirk openly stares at Spock, currently bent over his scanner, but not actually looking into it...an alarming pretense, though Kirk is sure Spock doesn't know he is watching him.

"Order of Komack, Admiral of Starfleet Command. Acknowledge?"

The message forces Kirk to break his scrutiny of Spock; he orders Uhura to acknowledge the message, and also orders Lieutenant Chekov to plot a course to get them to Altair VI on time.

"Enterprise to Starfleet Command, message acknowledged; re-routing course as directed."

Chekov runs some calculations, and in his thick Russian accent reports their new course.

"We'll have to head directly there at, uh, Warp Six, Captain. Insufficient time to stop at Wulcan."

Kirk tells him to put the ship on their new heading, and then crosses the bridge to Spock, who straightens up at his approach, but does not actually look at him.

"Sailor's luck, Mr. Spock. Or, as one of Finega's Laws puts it: Any home port the ship makes will be somebody else's, not mine."

Spock ignores the attempt at humor, and Kirk abandons levity, his tone matter-of-fact.

"The new President of Altair VI wants to get himself launched a week early, so we have to be there a week early."

He falters for a moment as Spock remains silent, but valiantly rallies, clearly attempting to reassure his First Officer.

"Don't worry, I'll see that you get your leave...as soon as we're finished."

Spock's reply is slow, hesitant.

"I...quite understand, Captain."

He stares off into space with an almost dazed, blank expression, and for just an instant Kirk allows concern to peek through his usual air of command. It's quickly hidden as a Yeoman comes up with a report for him to sign, yet after he has returned to his chair he cannot help shooting small glances at Spock's station. The shift seems to last forever, and while they don't say anything, some of the more observant crew shoot questioning glances at each other, curiosity piqued by the strange exchange between their COs and the odd silence which follows. Eventually Kirk is relieved, and after a last look at Spock (who continues to stare blankly at his station), he heads to his quarters for whatever rest he can get; ignoring the press of bodies as the crew changes shifts, mind racing with thoughts of how to not disobey a direct order, and yet somehow get Spock to Vulcan...

_Later._

Literally and figuratively, Captain James T. Kirk is in the dark. Lights off, he lays on his bunk, staring at the ceiling, lost in contemplating both Spock's puzzling behavior, and how he can possibly help his friend without drawing a Court Martial. Settling something in his mind, he sits up and signals the bridge.

"Mr. Chekov, how long would we be delayed in reaching Altair VI if we divert to Vulcan?"

Chekov's voice comes through the speaker, clearly confused by the question.

"Sir...we are already en route to Wulcan. Mr. Spock ordered us to redirect course."

Stunned, Kirk barely hears himself order Chekov to reroute to Altair VI. Moments later, he swings his legs off the bunk, a grim expression settling over his face as he stalks out of his cabin, heading back to the bridge...and a particularly aggravating First Officer.

The First Officer in question is once more bent over his scanner when the bridge turbo lift doors hiss open, revealing an incredibly perturbed Captain.

"Mr. Spock..."

Spock slowly straightens up from his station, and looks somewhat reluctantly over his shoulder, to see his Captain standing in front of the lift tube, arms akimbo, disapproval etched in every line of his frame.

"...come with me, please." Spock practically trudges over to the lift, but he obeys the order. Kirk's expression remains grim as they enter the tube, his voice equally so as he gives the computer their destination.

"Deck Five."

Spock stares straight ahead, Kirk looks at him for a long moment, worry and compassion blended there in equal measure, though his voice is free of either as he demands an explanation from him for the route change.

"You changed course for Vulcan, Mr. Spock. Why?"

Spock briefly glances at Kirk when he says "changed," and then resumes staring straight ahead.

"Changed the course?"

Kirk continues to stare at him.

"Do you deny it?"

Spock maintains staring at the closed doors of the lift.

"No, no by no means, Captain, it is quite possible." Confusion creeps into Kirk's voice.

"Then why'd you do it?"

Spock's reply rocks him to the core.

"Captain, I accept on your word that I did it. But I do not know why, nor do I remember doing it."

The hiss of the lift door is eerily loud as Kirk continues to stare at Spock, fear for his friend joining the storm of emotions upon his face.

"Captain, lock me away. I do not wish to be seen, I cannot, no Vulcan could, explain further."

Spock pleads with him, heightening Kirk's alarm.

"I'm trying to help you, Spock."

Kirk is also pleading, if nothing else, for Spock to help him _understand_.

"Ask me no further questions, I will not answer."

Spock retorts harshly, once more clearly irritated by his Captain trying to pry into his affliction.

"I order you to report to Sickbay."

Face once more closed off, Kirk mercilessly gives the command.

"Sickbay?"

Spock is caught by surprise.

"Complete examination. McCoy's waiting."

The doors open, and Spock slowly makes his way out, glancing back at the lift, the doors slide shut, mercifully blocking out Jim's sight of him...conflicted, torn, and lost. Spock gathers himself, starts off...and has to turn around as he nearly makes a wrong turn. Visibly shaken, he heads off in the right direction. McCoy is indeed waiting for him when he arrives in Sickbay.

"Come in Spock, I'm all ready for you."

Spock stands in the doorway, giving him a calculating look.

"My orders were to report to Sickbay, Doctor. I have done so, and now I'll go to my quarters."

McCoy bristles at his statement, quickly crossing the short gap between them, his tone irritated, but not angry, he knows how to play this game.

"My orders were to give you a thorough physical. In case you hadn't noticed, I have to answer to the same Commanding Officer that you do."

Something in Spock's expression causes him to soften, and (uncharacteristically) McCoy puts a reassuring hand on his arm.

"C'mon Spock, yield to the logic of the situation."

Spock seems to internally steel himself, and follows the Doctor to lay down on the exam table, his long fingers nervously tapping the metallic sides; McCoy pretends not to notice, inspecting a readout screen before beginning the exam. The ship continues on to Altair VI.

_Later._

McCoy bursts into the Captain's quarters, startling a lost-in-thought Kirk at his desk.

"Jim, you've gotta get Spock to Vulcan."

Half-rising from his chair, Kirk starts to reassure his friend.

"Bones, I will, I will. As soon as this mission is-"

Face grim, McCoy cuts him off.

"No, now. Right away. You don't get him to Vulcan in a week, eight days at the outside, he'll die. He'll _**die**_ , Jim."

Kirk is taken aback at this, searching for words, slowly crossing the room as he questions him.

"Why...must...he die? Why within eight days? Explain."

McCoy furrows his brow, his reply tinged with the frustration of a man who has tried to solve a difficult problem, and yet though he should be able to, he cannot see the answer.

"I don't know."

Kirk shakes his head, as though the motion will cause him to unhear the words.

"...you...keep saying that. Are you a Doctor, or aren't you?"

His voice, quiet at first, grows, not quite an accusation, but certainly a demand for a satisfactory answer.

"There's a growing imbalance of body functions. As if, in our bodies, huge amounts of adrenaline were constantly being pumped into our bloodstreams. Now I can't trace it down in my Bio Comps, Spock won't tell me what it is, but if it isn't stopped somehow, the physical and emotional pressures will simply kill him."

He delivers his diagnosis with terrible, emphatic certainty, Kirk looks away.

"You say you're convinced he knows what it is?"

McCoy's reply is pure Southern frustration, complete with nonsensical metaphor.

"He does. And he's as tight-lipped about it as an Aldebaran Shellmouth."

Kirk, musing, starts to head for the door.

"No use to ask him, Jim, he won't talk."

His friend ignores him, determinedly striding out the door. McCoy watches him go with concerned pity, and an odd bit of curiosity, as though wondering exactly how Kirk will succeed where he did not.

_Shortly after._

Spock is seated at his desk in his quarters, gazing in vexed contemplation at a picture of a young Vulcan girl displayed on his video monitor, absently holding a stylus in his hand. His reverie is interrupted by a harsh buzz from his door alert.

"Come."

Kirk briskly charges into his quarters, waving away Spock's movement to stand, coming to a stop just in front of his desk. Spock hangs his head, unwilling or unable to meet his gaze. Kirk looks at his bowed head for a moment, before diving headfirst into the issue.

"McCoy has given me his medical evaluation of your condition. He says you're going to die...unless something is done. What?"

Spock remains silent, tightly gripping the stylus in his hand, like a talisman. Kirk presses on, determined to know.

"Is it something only your planet can do for you?"

His words hold, unspoken, that help would be provided _here_ , Spock needs only to ask. Spock, still not meeting his gaze, moves to set the stylus down...Kirk roughly takes his hand, tired of being in the dark. The stylus clatters to the desk.

"Spock."

One word, yet those five letters hold so much in them. _Please, talk to me._ _What's wrong? Why would you let yourself die instead of letting us help? What is it that you can't/won't tell us? Why won't you tell_ _ **me**_ _?_ Spock's hand is trembling in his grip, and he lets go in shock. Spock further lowers his head, as though ashamed.

"Spock. Look at me."

Spock's breath hitches, slowly, slowly, he raises his head, his dark eyes again burning, fierce, predatory, almost... _hungry_. Kirk catches his own breath, pinned by the intensity of his gaze. Spock's eyes continue to burn into him as the Vulcan fluidly rises from his chair, moving gracefully as a panther to stand in front of Kirk, close, so close...his heart thuds against his ribs, surely, surely Spock isn't...doesn't...his breath is loud in his ears. Spock's own harsh, short breaths are hot against Kirk's skin, faces inches apart, somehow feeling as though a vast distance is yet to be crossed. Spock speaks, a low, deep growl that causes his pulse to quicken.

"It is a thing no outworlder may know...except those very few who have been involved. You humans have no conception. It strips our minds from us, brings a madness which rips away our veneer of civilization. I had hoped I would be spared this, Jim, but it seems the ancient drives are too strong."

Kirk swallows hard, forcing out a choked question, guessing the answer as he can feel tendrils of desire creep through him.

"Spared what, Spock? What...is this?"

Spock licks his lips before replying, and Kirk's pants are suddenly uncomfortably tight.

"It is the _Pon Farr_...the time of mating."

The last word is nearly lost, Spock's growl deepening, desire flashes in his dark eyes; Kirk's pants now painfully tight as his own desire builds, their long dance around each other circling to an unexpected conclusion.

"I...I'm afraid I don't quite understand, Spock."

Except he does, all of Spock's earlier agitation around him making sense, the Vulcan doesn't just have an overpowering urge to mate, he wants to mate with _him_...and he finds himself drawn to the idea. Spock moves closer, chests nearly touching, intense heat radiating from him, even to his fingertips, which hover a hairsbreadth from Kirk's own. 

"I burn. I burn for thee."

The confession is hoarse, rough, bitter with shame, and Jim is overwhelmed with the urge to reassure, to comfort; unthinking, he wraps his fingers around Spocks...in the next moment the Vulcan's lips are pressed against his, an involuntary moan escaping his throat, Spock growling in response.

" _T'nash-veh khaf nam tor yai. Wu ma I aitlu nash I yontau na' thee Jim. Ashayam._ "*

The unfamiliar words spill from Spock's lips as he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against Jim's, long fingers stroking against Jim's hands in a soothing, yet erotic pattern. Breathing heavily, the two remain still for several long moments, processing what just happened between them, loathe to break this new closeness. Jim, breathless, asks what at this point seems to be rather obvious, but he wants, _needs,_ to be certain.

"Spock...do you...do you want to mate...with me?"

Spock continues to stroke Jim's hands as he leans in to murmur his reply against Jim's neck, drawing out a moan of pleasure.

" _Ha. Hau k' me, t'nash-veh Jim._ "**

Teeth softly nip at his skin, punctuating each word, foreign and yet their meaning is crystal clear. Except Jim's need-to-know nature nearly ruins everything, he _WANTS_ to know what Spock will not say in Standard.

"Spock...I don't speak Vulcan."

Jim gasps out, disappointed when Spock draws back slightly, favoring him with a sardonically raised brow.

"I had thought I made my intent perfectly clear, Jim. Though if you insist...yes, I desire to mate with you."

Again, the growl grows until it nearly renders the last word inaudible, and Jim feels his cock twitch; Spock notices, and bares his teeth in primal satisfaction, moving in to once more worry affectionately at Jim's throat.

_"Duhik_ _komihn._ "***

Tongue, lips, and teeth work in unison to leave Jim a panting wreck. Spock... _purrs_ in satisfaction, and starts to remove their clothes, a still-dazed Jim catches on and helps; blue and gold tunics bright splashes of color against black pants and boots in the heap carelessly tossed on the floor. Jim is now the one to kiss Spock, fiercely, as if to show him that he will be a mate equal to a Vulcan. Spock groans in satisfied pleasure, allowing Jim to leave bruises along his throat, somehow they make their way to Spock's bunk, toppling ungracefully onto it as their unsteady legs hit the edge. Jim letting out a breathless laugh as Spock holds him tightly to ensure he doesn't fall off to the floor. Heat pools in their bellies as they explore each other; what makes Jim gasp, what makes Spock moan. Jim notes that firm caresses and rough bites have a rather profound effect upon the Vulcan, enthusiastically pursuing this discovery, Spock lets out a particularly primal growl, and suddenly Jim finds himself flipped and pinned under the much stronger Vulcan.

_"Hiyet. T'nash-veh_ _da-tor._ "****

Jim looks up at Spock, eyes dark with lust, chest heaving from foreplay, and looses himself to the flood of desire rolling off the Vulcan; hips bucking reflexively to find friction, needing to find release. Spock roughly pushes them down, holding him tightly, refusing to let him move again; he leans across Jim to harshly whisper in his ear.

" _Nam-tor fam dvun, I ri tor istaya tor klau thee._ "*****

Spock pulls back, staring at Jim for a moment, before seeming satisfied that he seems to understand, and slides downward to take his length into his mouth. Jim cries out as his hips buck again, the heat and moisture too much, too soon, Spock's growl of displeasure at his disobedience only adding to his ecstacy, and once more he is pushed down into the mattress.

" _Ish-veh seems I bolau saven-tor thee tor obey, Jim._ "******

Dark eyes bore into hazel, Jim swallows heavily, not afraid, but sufficiently cowed by Spock's intense gaze.

"I'm sorry...am I doing something wrong...?"

Spock, eager to proceed, and to reassure Jim, switches back to Standard.

"No, _Ashayam_. I wish not to harm thee, thou must remain still."

Jim nods, and Spock again lowers his mouth to encase him in blissful, damp heat, struggling to obey, but yearning to move; Spock flicks him a warning look at his frustrated moan, tightening his grip on Jim's hips as he hollows his cheeks. Jim's legs tremble, but he remains still, and Spock growls in satisfaction, causing Jim to squirm, and Spock lightly smacks his hip in admonition.

"Spock...I can't...feels so good...please, need to move..."

Babbling pleas fall upon seemingly deaf ears, as Spock continues to work his mouth over Jim's throbbing cock.

"Ahhhh...please, please, _Ashayam_..."

The use of the Vulcan endearment brings him up short.

"Thee said thou did not speak Vulcan."

Spock glares at his mate, accusation charging every word, and Jim feels a real twinge of fear, wondering if perhaps this time he has bitten off more than he can chew.

"I don't...it just...seemed like...like...you were calling me something...something that means...well, something important."

Jim's halting explanation placates Spock, who favors him with a deep, slow kiss before confirming his guess.

"Indeed. It means, 'my beloved,' or 'beloved person.' Thou art truly my _Ashayam_ , Jim. _Thee meskaru t'nash-veh khaf-spol svi' thy el'ru, thou tanaf wuh vath ulef t' t'nash-veh soul._ "*******

Spock murmurs the foreign words lovingly against Jim's throat, gentle kisses soothing the earlier bite marks, bright red on bronze skin. However, softness is not the way of Vulcans, and soon Spock is again nipping at tender flesh, desire for his mate overwhelming him, urging him to mark his claim upon his mate, his _Ashayam_. Jim moans in pained pleasure, willing to endure, to please his mate...his _Ashayam_. Though he did not know the word before today--this strange, wonderful day--it is fitting for how he feels, Spock is his beloved person, he has been for years, it just took a deep seated fire to burn away the many small lies they told themselves, revealing the truth.

_"Tor I klau thee?"********_

Concern fills Spock's voice, impulsively, Jim turns his head to run his tongue along the edge of a pointed ear. Spock's breath hisses between his teeth, muscles tensing beneath his olive skin, struggling for control.

"Keep going. Whatever you need, _Ashayam_ , I can handle it."

Jim's voice is husky, his realization of how deep his feelings run for Spock making him bold, and the use of _Ashayam_ pushes the Vulcan over the edge. If he had been fierce before, it was nothing to this, Jim is flipped over onto his stomach, hands like steel bands hold him firm, and he feels Spock press against him, hard cock leaking proof of his increasing need, hot against his skin.

_"Thou mavau wuh tehvar-bosh zhagra, Ashayam. Thy aitlun lau kusut thee. Ah! I yontau! I yontau!_ "*^

Jim is unprepared, a scream of pain ripped from his lips as Spock roughly shoves into him, pure, animalistic lust clouding the Vulcan's mind, hips snapping, he sets a brutal pace. Jim buries his face into a pillow, hiding hot tears and muffled cries of pain, hoping Spock will finish quickly, and perhaps when the fire in his blood burns out, they can...his thoughts are interrupted as Spock hits a spot within him, and his vision bursts with stars against the black.

" _I vikau thee. Thou did ri shoi. Sanoi, ri tor fnu-ven me, Ashayam. Sanoi ri tor fnu-ven me. I ashaya thee. I ashaya thee. Oh, ri tor fnu-ven me. I bolaya thee ni...ah! T'nash-veh khaf yontau na' thee!_ "^

Spock's cries are full of anguish, but he cannot stop himself, he is lost to the _PlakTow_ , the Blood Fever, and it must run its course, or he will be consumed by it. He prays to the Vulcan gods, illogical, he knows they do not exist, and thus cannot hear him, but perhaps some benevolent spirit will keep his beloved safe from his vicious hunger, and keep Jim from hating him for what he has done. He continues his thrusts, feeling white-hot liquid heat growing, he is close, oh, how he burns, faster, faster, his hips snap foward one last time, emptying his seed with a strangled cry, still buried deep inside, cock pulsing from his release, he slumps forward, head resting upon Jim's unmoving back. His poor _Ashayam_ , so terribly foolish, not knowing how hot this fire would burn, uncaring for his own safety, wishing only to help cure him of it.

_"Oh, Ashayam. Ra ma I ovsoh tor thee? I fai-tor thou bolau fnu-ven me. Kuv thou mokuhlek, forgive, forgive, Ashayam._ "^*

Jim stirs, groaning, but _alive_ , and a surge of relief washes over Spock, his beloved had gone silent, been so still...

"Spock...?"

Jim's voice, hoarse from his screams, weakly floats up from the bed.

_"Socha, Ashayam. Thou bolau shom._ "^**

Spock slides his softening cock out from inside Jim, who lets out a weak moan, though of pain or pleasure Spock cannot tell. He works himself in between Jim and the wall of his cabin, gathering his exhausted mate to his chest. Jim lets out a contented sigh, and Spock feels an overwhelming surge of love for his mate, followed by heavy guilt. He does not deserve this, Jim should be throwing him out of his own quarters. And yet, his beloved is nestled within his arms, a wan smile on his lips, breath deepening as Spock feels his mind drift into sleep.

_"Yuk, Ashayam. Yuk, heh sahr-tor t' vaksurik vel._ "^***

Spock remains awake for some time, guilt gnawing at him, and fear at what will happen when his _Ashayam_ wakes. Surely, after such cruel lovemaking, he would not still wish to be his mate. Perhaps he will no longer call him _Ashayam_. Worse still, he may no longer wish to be his friend. Eventually, Jim's light snores soothe him enough that he falls into a restless sleep, arms tightening around his _Ashayam_ , if only for a few more hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan Translations:
> 
> *My blood is flame. Long have I desired this, I burn for thee, Jim. My beloved.
> 
> **Yes. Join with me, my Jim.
> 
> ***Foolish human
> 
> ****Enough. My turn.
> 
> *****Be still, I do not wish to harm thee.
> 
> ******It seems I must teach thee to obey, Jim.
> 
> *******Thee holds my heart in thy hands, thou art the other half of my soul.
> 
> ********Do I harm thee?
> 
> *^Thou plays a dangerous game, my beloved. Thy desire may pain thee. Ah! I burn! I burn!
> 
> ^I warned thee. Thou did not listen. Please, do not hate me, my beloved. Please do not hate me. I love thee. I love thee. Oh, do not hate me. I need thee so...ah! My blood burns for thee!
> 
> ^*Oh, my beloved. What have I done to thee? I know thou must hate me. If thou can, forgive, forgive, my beloved.
> 
> ^**Peace, my beloved. Thou must rest.
> 
> ^***Sleep, my beloved. Sleep, and dream of pleasant things.
> 
> Side note: Ashayam may also be shortened to simply "beloved," in case future uses seem to result in awkward sentence structure. I also used a language generator site for these, so they may not be accurate.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I may have SLIGHTLY missed my self-imposed deadline, but considering it just turned midnight a few hours ago--apologies for the complete oddball upload time--I think I did pretty well in almost making it.
> 
> I appreciate all the wonderful comments, and I am pleasantly surprised at the amount of interest in this work, as I frankly expected it to sit for ages with minimal to no hits. You are lovely, lovely people for taking the time to read this, and I thank you all.
> 
> I am thinking next chapter will be the last for this fic, an epilouge which will both wrap up a few things and yet create potential future fic plot threads. I may continue this at a later date, but I think my next fic may be one I started after the "Good Omens" quarantine audio dropped, working title is "South Downs--Interrupted."
> 
> =============================

The buzz of his door alert startles Spock into wakefulness. Alarmed, he looks down at Jim, still sound asleep, though he is not completely surprised by this, his _Ashayam_ is most likely still exhausted from their...activities. Careful to not disturb him, Spock eases out of his rather cramped bunk, padding over to the comm unit.

"Yes?"

McCoy's voice comes angrily through the speaker.

"Dammit, Spock, what the blazes is going on?! I've buzzed you at least fifteen times, and I can't seem to find Jim anywhere on this blasted ship!"

Spock weighs his answer before replying, McCoy knows...well, enough, anyway, and so far has at least kept silent.

"I can assure you that Jim is safe, Doctor. My apologies for not answering your call immediately, I was...meditating."

A derisive snort follows his poor fabrication.

"Right. You've never ignored more than five, and as to how you know the Captain is...wait. You said 'Jim.' He's with you, isn't he?"

Spock mentally sighs before confirming the furious Doctor's accusation.

"Affirmative. He is presently sleeping, and I do not wish this conversation to wake him from a much-needed rest."

McCoy, psychoanalyst that he is, puts the pieces together.

"Hang on, high adrenaline levels...well I'll be damned. Alright, Spock, just...don't wear him out too much, got it? I'm guessing from your less hostile tone that your symptoms are gone?"

This time, Spock's sigh is audible.

"Understood, Doctor. You are mostly correct in your assessment of my...earlier affliction. Though I would not presume that my symptoms are completely gone, they are greatly reduced in their...intensity."

McCoy's tone is highly amused, and Spock hangs his head, knowing that both he and Jim will never hear the end of this...not if the Doctor can help it.

"Glad to hear it. Should I put you both on temporary bed rest due to unexplained fatigue until we reach Altair VI?"

Spock raises an eyebrow, though McCoy cannot see it.

"I...am uncertain that will be necessary, though perhaps if we can both be spared, it may not be an unwise precaution."

McCoy chuckles, clearly pleased that Spock is uncomfortable and deliberately avoiding attempts to bring the subject out in the open.

"I see. Well, we're about four days out, I'll put you both on for three full solar days, and check on you then. I'll send Nurse Chapel 'round with food trays, and clear instructions to leave them in front of the _closed_ door."

Jim stirs, and Spock quickly agrees, McCoy's barking laughter ringing in his ears as he signs off. Spock quietly crosses the room, trying not to wake Jim, but his Ashayam is already blinking sleep from his eyes. He sees Spock, and a tired, yet pleased grin speads across his face, mirth sparking in his hazel eyes.

"Well. That was...definitely something. Is it always so...intense?"

Spock cocks an eyebrow, clearly expecting a very different reaction.

"I would not know, Jim. This is my first _Pon Farr_. Though I expect the fever would not be so intense after the first joining, logic holds no place here, and it may well be as...consuming, for each subsequent time."

Jim looks at him with unbridled fondness, love, and, incredibly, a hint of desire.

"I guess we'll just have to conduct our own research."

Spock feels his own desire stir, Jim's suggestion causing thoughts of earlier to surface, he firmly pushes them aside, guilt at hurting his _Ashayam_ still weighing heavily upon him.

"It...would not be, wise, Jim. In my desire, I could hurt you...more than I already have, _Ashayam_."

Jim, now sitting up, throws him an annoyed look, plainly unconcerned with this prospect.

"Spock, if I can handle what just happened, I highly doubt there's anything you would do that will permanently damage me. Yes, walking is going to be...difficult for a bit, but I'm not exactly a stranger to that particular problem, though it's definitely been awhile. I'm not afraid, and besides...I'd like to return the favor, _Ashayam_."

Heat races through Spock at Jim's quiet, sincere confession, cock swelling at the thought of his mate _taking him_...Jim smirks, and Spock belatedly remembers they are still completely nude.

"I think you'd like it if I did, wouldn't you, _Ashayam_?"

Jim stands up and crosses the room, his voice a throaty purr, challenging his mate to let _him_ be in control...Spock's eyes flash with his own desire, and Jim captures his mouth with his, tongue dancing across and teasing open his lips, heated breath mingling as Spock moans in need, cock twitching against Jim's thigh.

"So eager...patience, _Ashayam_."

Jim murmurs as he moves from Spock's mouth to trail heated kisses down his neck, pausing to suck at the base of his throat. Spock growls in approval as Jim turns to force him back to the bunk, sharp nips from his teeth encouraging him to move faster.

" _Ah! Du oren-tor saris, Ashayam_."

Jim lets out a growl of his own, having learned that Spock speaking in Vulcan means his inhibitions are lowered, as his arousal increases.

"Bed. Now."

Jim orders, and the command makes Spock's cock jump, liquid beading from its tip to run glistening down its length. His _Ashayam_ sees, and licks his lips with anticipation. Spock quickly moves to the bunk, barely seating himself on the edge before Jim practically pounces upon him, mouth descending upon his leaking cock, and now Spock understands why his _Ashayam_ had trouble keeping still. Though Jim is also, it seems, unfairly familiar with this act, tongue working both with and opposite the movement of his mouth, alternating speed with slowly taking Spock's length completely into his mouth, at least, as far as he can without choking himself. Spock throws his head back as Jim increases his pressure, tongue somehow winding its own pattern along his shaft.

" _Ha! Oh, weht sanoi, Jim! Ni mao sanosh..._ "**

Jim hums his pleasure at making his mate beg, and Spock's eyes roll back into his head at the new sensation.

_"Thee_ _tvai_ _tor stau me k' sanosh thou pi-maat'rer komihn!_ "***

Spock groans, Jim takes pity upon his overwhelmed mate, and with a wet pop releases him from his mouth.

"Too much?"

Spock's head is still tilted back, weight resting upon his arms, his throat bobbing enticingly as he struggles to catch his breath.

_"Ha."_

Jim grins, he thinks he has figured out some Vulcan words, and he is pretty sure that means "yes." He climbs onto the bunk, and wrapping his arms around him, drags his _Ashayam_ down with him to the mattress.

"Such a mighty, terrifying, lust-filled Vulcan."

He teases Spock gently, knowing the words to be true, bruises mottling his skin in various places tangible evidence. He again runs his tongue along Spock's ear, but this time he is ready for the change in his mate.

_"Kiyet._ This time, I get to lead."

The use of the word, though not quite correct-- _pehkaya_ would be more accurate--coupled with Jim's commanding tone, brings Spock up short, Jim continuing to lave his tongue along his ear, sucking at the lobe. Spock's cock twitches in response, fighting to let his mate be the one to lead, his urge to dominate less so than earlier, but mounting as Jim curls his hand around Spock's cock. His thumb rolls around the tip, Spock moaning his pleasure as his hips buck at the sensation. Jim's breath puffs hot against Spock's ear as his hand pumps his cock, straining against Jim's grip, struggling to roll Jim so he can again bury himself inside his mate.

**_"Kiyet."_ **

Jim again admonishing him in Vulcan, voice growling his disapproval, Spock growls back, and Jim bites his shoulder in reproach. Firmly, yet not breaking skin, and Spock's eyes roll back in his head at the display of dominance, ceasing his struggles, Jim making a satisfied noise of approval.

"Good, _Ashayam_. Now roll over."

Spock finds himself eager to obey, Jim roughly pulling Spock's hips as he positions himself behind his mate; Spock groans in pleased submission. Jim smiles in satisfaction, then frowns slightly as he remembers something which he would have appreciated earlier, though he has discovered Vulcans secrete far more than humans.

"I'll do what I can, but this will probably be a bit uncomfortable, and possibly painful, _Ashayam_. Unless you have some sort of oil, or something similar we could use..."

His voice trails off, uncertain, and Spock gestures to a storage panel near the bed. Jim pads over to it, opening it to find several small, clear bottles, contents translucent, varying shades of yellow and orange, along with two covered jars; curious, he lifts the lids, and a strong, spicy scent wafts up from coarsely powdered, brightly colored pink and red contents. Jim replaces the lids, and fighting a sudden urge to sneeze, grabs the bottles and quickly returns to the bunk.

"Which one?"

He holds them out, and Spock selects the lightest one, contents a pale yellow. Jim sets the rest on the floor and climbs back on the mattress, eager to continue what he started, Spock reflexively moving closer, equally impatient. Kneeling behind Spock, Jim again roughly grabs his hips, pulling him close, pressing against him, carefully, not wanting to slip and cause discomfort. Spock grinds against him, and Jim smacks his hip in admonition, feeling his cock jump at Spock's groan of pleasure. He spanks him, then, harder this time, and Spock moans, hips writhing in his grip, grinding himself against his mate's cock. Jim grins, pleased at his discovery, mentally noting it for future lovemaking, though he cannot resist delivering several more spanks, Spock cries out, relishing the stinging burn.

_"Ah! Va'ashiv, va'ashiv, I eit'jae thee, Jim!_ "****

Grin widening at his ability to break Spock's composure, Jim runs his hands over his mate, soothingly, before swiftly applying a few more spanks; Spock _keens_ , a flush of green spreading under the surface of heated skin. Satisfied that his mate is now sufficiently aware that _**he**_ is in control, Jim settles back on his heels and opens the small bottle, releasing a fragrance he can't quite place, a unique blend of woodsy citrus, but holding a subtle note of something deeper, more intense. Pouring a small amount into his palm, he carefully replaces the cap, setting the bottle off to the side before slicking the oil over his cock, lips parting in his own moan of pleasure as he coats himself with the slightly cool liquid. Panting, he again presses up against Spock, holding still, enjoying the closeness, desiring to push further, but holding back, despite the recent audible evidence of mild pain causing pleasure, he does not wish to hurt his _Ashayam_. Spock, impatient, grinds into him, hard, and the knowledge of his _Ashayam_ being completely lost to the fire in his blood undoes him, his strangled cry of triumph joining with Spock's shout of pained pleasure as he claims him.

"...you alright?"

Short, rapid breaths huff against Spock's ear as Jim leans forward, concerned, voice husky with desire.

_"Ha."_

Spock's reassurance comes between rapid breaths of his own, heart hammering in his side, reveling in the sensation of his _Ashayam inside him_. Several long moments pass before Jim begins to move, Spock's request for him to do so dying on his lips as new pleasure builds between them, his Ashayam holding him close, hips rolling in slow, deep thrusts.

"Feels so good, Spock...oh, Christ, feels _so good_..."

Limbs trembling, deep in his chest Spock rumbles his agreement, though after some time he finds himself wishing his _Ashayam_ were not quite so restrained with his movements. As though reading his thoughts, Jim repositions himself, gripping Spock's hips firmly before increasing his pace.

_"Ha, Ashayam, aishan ni...ah! Oh...sahris, sahris, sanoi, Jim!_ "*****

Though in Vulcan, his _Ashayam_ seems to understand, crying out in pleasure as Jim drives into him, hips rolling back to match his thrusts.

"Ohhhh, God...God, God, Spock...oh, _Ashayam_..."

Jim adjusts his grip, strong hands coaxing his mate to shift slightly, and Spock comes apart at his next thrust as it hits something within him.

_"Ah! Oh, Ashayam, oekon...oekon!!_ "******

Whatever he thought had been pleasure before, it was _nothing_ compared to this...resting his weight upon his forearms, he submits fully to his _Ashayam_. Noticing the change in his mate, Jim places a hand on his back, firmly keeping Spock in place, hips snapping as he builds to his own release, yet determined to first satisfy his _Ashayam_.

_"Ashayam, ah, oekon...ni mao sanosh...oekon...oh, sanoi, sanoi, Ashayam, katau t'nash-veh sadalaya!_ "*******

Unwittingly, Jim grants his plea with a few more fierce thrusts, spilling into his mate with a victorious cry as he feels Spock clench around him, his own release spilling across the mattress. Jim slides over Spock's back, pressing a kiss to his skin before turning his head and laying his cheek against his _Ashayam_ , lips curling into a contented smile as he listens to the beat of his heart, enjoying the slightly odd feeling as his head rises and falls with Spock's breathing, without thinking he whispers three words he has rarely told anyone else...and never before really understood how it _should_ feel.

"I love you."

Spock pauses in his gradually slowing breaths, fear gripping Jim's chest as his brain belatedly catches up with his still racing heart, shock washing over him as he realizes what he said, and that he _meant it_. He rolls over and sits up, starting to explain as Spock turns to look at him with an unreadable expression, common enough before, but strange now after his displays of passion.

"Spock, I-"

Jim falters as Spock takes his hand, running long fingers over and between his...deep affection fills his dark eyes, warming them so they glow like polished obsidian.

_"I ashaya thee, t'nash-veh Jim. Thou danik duhik komihn._ "********

Fear loosening in his chest at _"ashaya,"_ Jim wryly smiles at him.

"Can I ask for a translation?"

Spock raises an eyebrow in amusement before replying, lips twitching with a small smile of his own.

_"Ha."_

After a lengthy pause, Jim rolls his eyes in exasperation.

" _May_ I have a translation? ...please."

Taking pity on his _Ashayam_ , Spock continues to run his fingers over his hand...though he only translates the first part.

"I love thee, my Jim."

Relief chases away the remaining fear, somehow hearing Spock say the words in Standard makes everything real, bolstering Jim to repeat them, voice quiet but firm as he looks sincerely into his _Ashayam's_ eyes.

"I love you, Spock."

Jim brings their joined fingertips to his lips, Spock shuddering as he feels soft kisses press against his sensitive skin, arousal again stirring within him. His mate notices, a playful grin spreading across his face, eyes sparking with equal desire.

"I think it's a good thing Bones gave us three days, don't you?"

Spock pulls his mate to him, heated lips again meet his, and his _Ashayam_ non-verbally agrees as they lose themselves in each other, while finding something so much more than anything either had ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan Translations:
> 
> *Ah! You learn quickly, my beloved.
> 
> **Yes! Oh, more, please, Jim! So much pleasure...
> 
> ***Thee mean to kill me with pleasure, thou cruel human!
> 
> ****Ah! Again, again, I beg thee, Jim!
> 
> *****Yes, beloved, just so...ah! Oh...faster, faster, please, Jim! (Actually "quickly," but faster did not translate)
> 
> ******Ah! Oh, my beloved, gods...gods!! (Vulcan seems to use singular and plural forms indiscriminately, or at least the translator I am using appears to do so, I am again modifying the translation based on sentence structure)
> 
> *******Beloved, ah, gods...so much pleasure...gods...oh, please, please, my beloved, bring me my release!
> 
> ********I love thee, my Jim. Thou most foolish human.


	4. Epilouge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DID IT! I ACTUALLY STARTED AND FINISHED A FIC!
> 
> Granted, I have left this open-ended and MAY expand upon it at a later date, but I also have several projects which I have been neglecting for far too long. This also serves as a way for me to work in the changes this brings to the family dynamics in a rewrite of "Journey to Babel," which I have mentally mapped out.
> 
> I again appreciate all of you for taking the time to read this, and the amount of interest it has received in just a few days is still mind-blowing to me. I have a huge problem BELIEVING positive feedback and always fret about everything I do being utter trash. I'm getting better about it; definitely going to keep writing, but I do plan on trying my hand in other fandoms.
> 
> May all of you stay healthy and safe.
> 
> =============================

_**Stardate:** 3381.4 **Captain's Log:** Personal _

_Our mission to Altair VI successfully concluded, we are now en route to Vulcan; recent events having made the trip less urgent, but First Officer Spock has informed me it is necessary; though his...affliction has passed, there are other matters tied to it which can only be resolved on his home planet. He has invited myself and Chief Medical Officer Doctor McCoy to accompany him, a rare honor as outworlders are not usually permitted to participate in sacred Vulcan ceremonies. Spock has graciously spoken to me of the rituals involved at my request, but I will not betray his confidence by divulging any details. I will however, note that T'Pau, ruler of Vulcan, is to be present, a high honor indeed to meet her outside of standard diplomatic functions; even more so to be able to observe her acting in her spiritual office of High Priestess._

_I have ordered shore leave of three solar days for the crew, as Spock's earlier request to use his own leave was never rescinded, and it will be good for all of us to experience the local culture, though perhaps it will be most beneficial for Lieutenant Stiles. Regrettably, Spock's parents are off-world on matter of diplomacy involving Telleria, though he has informed me their presence is not required for the ceremony. I should have liked to meet them, and though I know Spock will never admit to it, I think he would have liked to see them as well...perhaps another time._

_Kirk out._


End file.
